Blended
by cat94208
Summary: Jack always looked back on that day with mixed feelings. The day he not only met MacGyver but also became his host. AU. Rated T for some violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: I love both MacGyver and Stargate SG1, and I especially like reading crossovers about them, so I thought I'd write one of my own. Its a bit weird and very AU but it should be fun, and I hope you enjoy it. **

**Bold **stands for Symbiote speech. _Italics_ for thoughts.

**Disclaimer: I do not own either MacGyver or Stargate SG1.**

* * *

Jack was going to kill Jack Dalton. As soon as he was done cleaning this floor he was going to go out and kill him. They had both decided to play the prank. They had both done it. They had both groaned when something went terribly wrong. But somehow, Dalton, with that smooth tongue of his, managed to escape punishment.

Jonathan O'Neill dipped a sponge into a bucket containing soapy water. Jack gave the sponge a disgusted look before setting it to the store's tiled floor. He scrubbed slowly, not daring to look up to see how much he had left. He knew it was a lot. He sighed, moving a hand up to run through his sandy-colored hair. His hand stopped before it reached it, though, as Jack realized his hand was soapy wet and dirty. It was bad enough having it covering his hands and clothes. He did not need it in his hair. Jack glowered at the sponge, before glancing around the store. It was a small grocery shop but very popular. Unfortunately, it also seemed to have a large amount of floor space. His back was sore and so were his knees from kneeling on the hard floor. Yeah, he was having serious second thoughts about using something so sticky for the prank. Of course, technically, he was lucky that Mr. Peters, the store owner, didn't turn him over to the police, or call his mom, but washing the entire store floor was, was...

Crash! The shop door banged opened as a man scrambled in. "Excuse me?" Jack pointed to the door. "The sign says closed."

"Is there a back way out of here?" the man gasped.

"No," Jack answered.

As soon as the word left Jack's mouth the man began to snatch things off the shelf.

"Hey!" Jack yelled jumping to his feet, knowing that he would be the one to have to clean everything up. "What are you doing!"

The man never had a chance to answer. The door burst open again, and before Jack had time to react, two other men charged into the store. One raised a firearm and coolly aimed. A soft gunshot sounded, and the first man, who still had a packet of baking soda in his hands, fell to the ground. Jack took a step forward, but hesitated, slightly unsure of what to do. The two killers ran up to their victim, smiles on their faces. The injured man was still trying to mix some of the items together. One of his persecutors pointed a gun at him.

It was then that Jack did something that, on hindsight, he realized was stupid. He moved out of his safe, so far, corner, and shouted, "Hey!" Immediately the men turned on him, their faces showing surprise. It wasn't until then that it occurred to Jack that he had no weapons, he had just witnessed an attempt at murder, the murderers were standing right in front of him, and they did have weapons. The eyes of the man who had fired the first shot narrowed. "It looks like we have a witness."

Jack raised his hands in a pacifying manner. "Witness? Nah. A witness is someone who's seen something. I haven't seen anything."

The man smiled and lowered his gun for one misleading moment, then slowly he raised it again. The pistol, with silencer attached, was pointed directly at Jack. "Nice try." The gunshot's dulled sound filled the air, and Jack felt a blazing pain that was anything but dull in his midriff. Crying out, he collapsed to the ground.

Jack had never been shot before. Shot at, but never actually hit. It was a lot more painful than he had imagined, and frightening. The world seemed to have gone grey, and he barely registered the two men speaking.

"What do we do now?"

"Get out of here. Jones is dead and the boy's dying. He won't live to tell anything."

One word struck Jack. Dying. He couldn't die. Dying was bad. Jack opened his eyes. Seeing the men were gone, he attempted to struggle to his knees. He needed help, now. The attempt failed miserably as he slipped in his own blood. He hadn't the energy to try again. His eyes closed, and he could feel himself growing weaker. The pain from his wound was gradually diminishing. Panic filled him, but there was nothing he could do. He opened his eyes, a surprisingly hard task. The sight that met him would normally have made him draw back or reach for a gun. But his strength was gone, and he could only watch as the creature approached him. It seemed he was not only to be shot, but attacked by a snake as well.

The snake (for that was the only word Jack could think of to describe it) was almost at him now. Jack's eyes widened slightly in fear, but it didn't really matter did it? He was dead anyhow. Then the creature lunged straight at his face. Jack felt a sudden pain in his throat, before unconsciousness took him.

Jack awoke slowly. For awhile he just laid there, not daring to open his eyes. The last thing he remembered was getting shot and being killed by a snake. It wasn't a pleasant memory. Carefully he opened one eye. He was still in the store, so he couldn't be dead. He had been shot, hadn't he? And where was the snake? Quickly he sat up, his hand feeling the place where the wound had been. His shirt was bloody and there was a hole in the material, but there wasn't a hole in him. Jack looked around. Had it been a dream? But no, the blood and the corpse proved that it hadn't. So he had been shot. But why wasn't he dead like the other man?

The door opened again, its bells jingling happily as if nothing had happened. Jack flinched, wondering if more men with guns would appear. A man with a gun did appear but it was Sheriff Roberts, not a criminal. "Jack, are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine," Jack said, stopping the Sheriff from coming forward and examining him.

Roberts nodded. Jack didn't seem to be dying. He bent down to examine the man on the floor. He might still be alive, though the Sheriff had a feeling the man was already beyond help. He checked for a pulse. Slowly he got to his feet.

"Is he dead?" Jack asked.

"Afraid so," Roberts answered.

Jack stepped back as a strange, intense grief filled him. A grief that wasn't his own. The type of grief Jack hadn't felt since the day his father and grandmother had died in a car crash. It swelled, growing inside him. It's intensity like the sudden release of a dam. Jack staggered under the weight of it. He fought against it, panic filling him. What was happening! Than in an instant, it was gone, leaving behind only a trail of confusion sprinkled lightly with sadness.

"Jack?" The Sheriff grabbed the young man by the arm.

Jack shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You better let me take a look at you."

Jack glanced down at himself. He looked like he had been shot, which he had. But he couldn't tell the Sheriff that. "I'm fine," Jack repeated for the third time. He detached himself from the sheriff and walked over to the dead body to prove his point. To prove that he didn't know the man, and was not upset at his death.

Roberts gave Jack an unsure glance before changing the subject, "Poor fella," he shook his head. "I don't remember seeing him around town. I don't suppose you know anything about him?"

"His name was Frank, Frank Jones."

"You knew him then?" Roberts was surprised.

Jack shook his head. _Where in the world had that come from?_ "No," he lied, "the men who shot him said something about it."

"Are you sure you are okay?" Roberts asked again.

"Positive,"

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to tell me what happened."

Jack did the best he could. Telling about everything except getting shot, and about the snake. Instead he lied, saying he was hit in the head.

When this was over, the Sheriff looked at him kindly, "Go on home, Jack. I'll take your written statement later."

Jack didn't argue. Quickly he exited the store and headed home.

* * *

Jack stared at his house apprehensively. It would be better if he got into his room without being noticed. His mother did not need to see him covered in blood. Jack imagined the look on her face and shuddered. Yep, he definitely needed to get cleaned up first. He already had to sneak, using back ways to get to his house without being seen. He had thought about taking his shirt off and stuffing it in a trash can, but he was bloody as well, so it wouldn't do any good.

He was glad that his mother wasn't the type of woman that sat and looked out her windows all day long. Hurriedly, he snuck around the house. It was a typical two-storied white house, a remnant from when the land used to be a farm. His room was in the second story towards the back of the house. It so happened that there was a large tree that reached up and above the house. It also so happened that one of its branches reached outwards towards Jack's window. Jack thought of that tree as one of his friends. It was always useful when he wanted to sneak in the house, like now.

Grabbing a lower branch, he swung up on to it, and scrambling up onto the next one, he began scaling the tree. Reaching the branch that was near his window, he paused and looked down. He always did this. He loved the sensation of being up high; it gave him a certain thrill. But this time he felt, besides his usual joy, a certain nervousness. And when he swung into his room, a slight relief. He shook his head. What was wrong with him today? Perhaps seeing somebody killed had something to do with it? _Ya think?_ He answered himself.

Pulling off his shirt he stared down at it. Maybe he should have thrown it in the trash. There was no way he was going to get away with throwing it in the dirty clothes hamper. Looking at it in disgust, he shoved it under his bed. He would deal with it later. Right now he needed a shower.

* * *

Jack lay down on his bed. The shower had removed some of the tenseness from his body, and had cleaned the blood off pretty well. It had, though, done little to relieve his aching mind. Questions scurried through his mind like mice after cheese.

Why was he still alive? Who were his attackers? What was going to happen next? And what was wrong with him? Why had the name Frank popped into his head? And why had he felt so sad at the man's death? Jack still didn't understand that. He hadn't even known the guy, for cryin' out loud!

**"No, but I did."**

Jack sat up, "Who's there?" He asked. He darted to the window and looked out. All he saw was the backyard and the tree branches. Now he crept carefully to the closet on the other side of the room. It was the only place someone could be hiding. He swung the door open, his fist tight and ready, but there was no one there.

**"You aren't going to find me." **

"Who are you!" Jack cried. The voice sounded like it was coming from... but no, that couldn't be true.

**"The name's MacGyver. I'm not out there."** The voice hesitated slightly. **"I'm in you."**

Jack groaned. "I thought so, but I was hoping." Here he was hearing somebody who didn't exist.

**"You're not mad."**

"Says the voice in my head."

Jack heard MacGyver sigh. ** "I guess I'm going to have to explain things. Man, I hate doing this. Well, to start off with, you can talk to me by thinking. You don't have to say everything out loud."**

_"That's good to know," _Jack thought._ "Now nobody will know I've gone bonkers."_

**"You haven't gone bonkers. This is going to sound weird." **MacGyver paused for a minute before hurrying on. **"I'm actually in you. I belong to a people called the Tok'ra. My race needs a host to survive. Without one we sorta shrivel up and die."**

Jack felt something brush against his consciousness. It was soft like a feather, but still a touch, still an intrusion. He shuddered. He could almost feel something crawling underneath his skin. He placed a hand to the spot and could actually feel movement. He wasn't just imagining things, there was something in his head. Jack's eyes widened and he gasped. Forgetting that he could think to the creature, Jack screamed, "Get out. Now!"

**"I'm sorry,"** MacGyver said guiltily.

"Then get out!"

Jack felt another touch against his mind, almost comforting in nature. He revolted against it. Falling to his knees he scratched at his neck as if he could tear the thing out himself.

**"Calm down." **

"Get out and I will!" Jack growled. His fists clenched, and his breath came in rapid gasps. Terror grabbed him. All he knew was that he had to do something. He had to get it out. He had to. Jack jumped to his feet. He was going to run, run till he left it behind.

Jack felt something grab his mind and shake it. It had the same effect as someone grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. It snapped him out of it. The panic left, though fear still clung to him. Jack sunk back down to the floor. "Please get out," he whispered.

**"I would, but it would leave a hole in your head, and you'd most likely die from it. I don't think that's what you want. I am sorry, Jack."**

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Panic never did anybody any good. _"How do you know my name?"_

**"Well, I heard the Sheriff call you by it, so I guessed."**

_"When did you... how long have you been, here?"_ Jack gestured toward his head, not quite able to say the words yet.

**"Since this morning."**

Jack's eyes widened in revelation, _"you're the snake!"_

**"Tok'ra,"** MacGyver corrected.** "Snakes are different."**

_"They don't climb into people's heads, for one thing."_

**"Well, no they don't, but that thing isn't really my choice. If I don't, I die."**

_"Okay, so I know when you got into my head, but where on earth did you come from!"_

MacGyver thought about the many answers he could give to this question. He decided the shortest one was better, the rest could be explained later. **"My last host was the man you saw killed today. He was dead. I tried... I couldn't do anything to help. You were still alive. I could save **_**you**_**."**

_"So you're why I'm still alive."_ Jack felt strange owing his life to something that needed to live inside him to survive.

**"I don't just live in you taking stuff. I give back things too. We're partners. I can heal you and keep you healthy. Think of it! No more colds for the rest of your life!" **

Jack smiled slightly at this, but he still felt like he was in a dream, or some sci-fi show, or horror movie. _"So was Frank your old whatever-you-called-it?"_

**"Host,"** MacGyver supplied, **"Yes, his name was Frank. I let that slip along with my emotions. I'm sorry. I'll try to keep my feelings to myself until you're more comfortable with it." **

_"Your feelings?" _

**"Yeah. Hosts and symbiotes tend to share feelings."**

_"Symbiote?" _

**"It's what each individual Tok'ra is called. You're a human and I'm a Tok'ra. You're a host and I'm a Symbiote."**

_"Why don't you tell me the advantages and disadvantages of being a host, and get it over with."_

**"Okay, which do you want first, bad or good?"**

_'Bad. That way I'll have something to look forward to."_

**"Uh,"** MacGyver struggled to think of something that would be bad in Jack's eyes. **"I'm with you all the time, and you can't get rid of me, but that won't be so bad once you get to know me. We share memories, feelings, and I can read your thoughts. You can't lie to me, and I tend to attract trouble wherever I go."**

Jack blinked and rubbed his head, that was quite a lot. _"Any good things?"_

**"Yes. I can heal you. You won't get sick. You'll have a much longer life span than the average human, probably over two hundred years. Your senses are stronger than they used to be and you're stronger too. Plus you'll never be lonely."**

_"Sounds good. Of course that depends on how much of a pain you are."_

MacGyver chuckled slightly at this.** "People have told me that I'm easy to get along with."**

Jack started. It felt strange to have somebody else laughing in your head. He walked back to the bed and sat on it. How on earth had this happened to him? Jack realized that unless he wanted to die, he would have to give up his privacy. MacGyver could read his mind, knew how he felt, and even shared his memories. Everything Jack did MacGyver would know, and Jack wasn't sure how much he liked it.

**"I'm not a nosy old lady. I won't be listening to your thoughts all the time."**

_"You just did!"_

**"I'll give you privacy when you want it."**

_"Alright, I want it now. I need time to think about all this... stuff."_

**"Okay."** MacGyver withdrew, knowing he needed to give his new host some time.

As it turned out Jack didnít have much time to think.

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**Well there's the first chapter. Review if you enjoyed it. It will help me write the second chapter faster. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Here's the second chapter. Thanks to Cort85, PatriciaS, and Nedy Rahn for their reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither MacGyver or Stargate.**

* * *

A gentle tapping on the door caused Jack to sit up. "Who is it?" he called.

His mother's voice answered him, "Jack are you alright? The sheriff just came by and..."

Jack jumped off the bed and opened the door. "I'm fine, Mom." _If you call having a snake in my head fine._

**"It wouldn't be a good idea to tell her about me."** MacGyver ignored the snake comment.

_"Ya think?"_ Jack mentally snorted. _"I thought you were going to leave me alone?" _

**"I am but..."**

"Jack?" Ellen gazed at her son worriedly. He was staring off into space, a blank look on his face. Jack was a good son, though he did get into trouble at times, and often caused her worry. Now that he was eighteen he was determined to join the Air Force. She couldn't change his mind and knew better than to try. If only her father hadn't left... but no. He'd probably encourage the notion. "Jack?" She asked again, seeing that he hadn't responded.

Jack shook his head. _"See what you made me do?"_ "I'm fine mom," he repeated, "just a bit shook up."

She nodded understandingly and gave him a kiss. "I was just checking," she said. "You go ahead and get some rest. I'll bring some food up to you later."

Jack knew better than to protest. Besides, he needed to do some more thinking. "Alright, mom." He gave her a quick reassuring kiss back, and then she left.

**"She sounds like a good woman."**

_"She is,"_ Jack agreed. He then changed the subject, _"So what exactly are you?"_

**"What do you mean?" **MacGyver thought he had already explained himself.

_"What are you? Why haven't I heard of things like you before?"_

Jack could feel MacGyver wince, **"Oh... well... I guess you could classify me as an alien. Not very many people know about my race."**

Jack groaned. He definitely felt like he was in a sci-fi movie now. _"So there are aliens in space?"_

**"Yeah, quite a few actually."**

Jack jumped, as a good-sized rock flew into his room. He snatched it up with full intentions of dropping it on the thrower's head. He strode to the window and looked down. He'd guessed right. There was Jack Dalton standing underneath the tree.

"Hey, Jack!" Dalton waved. "I just heard the news. I came to the front door but your mom wouldn't let me in. She said you were resting."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't drop this on your head," Jack growled.

"You're not still mad at me are you?"

"You abandoned me!" With Jack's help, they might have finished sooner and none of this would have happened.

Dalton shuffled slightly. "I had things to do. Can you come down? At this rate your mom will hear us."

"How about you come up?"

"You know I can't climb trees!"

Jack sighed. "Alright, I'm coming down, but only to make sure this rock doesn't miss when I throw it."

Jack Dalton took a step back but smiled. He was used to Jack's threats.

Jack, with accustomed ease, swung out onto the branch. Looking down with careful aim, he dropped the rock.

Thud! It landed a few inches from Jack. He jumped backwards. "Hey!"

"Oops. I missed." Jack grinned.

MacGyver groaned and Jack felt the same nervousness he felt when climbing up the tree. _"What?"_ he asked, at the same time clinging tighter to the branch above.

**"I have a thing about heights."**

"That's great, just great." Jack said aloud, soft enough so Dalton couldn't hear. He climbed down from the tree, and in a very creepy way felt MacGyver's relief at being on firm ground again.

"Come on. We can talk at the clubhouse," Jack addressed Dalton.

The clubhouse was a small shack a short distance from Jack's house. It was in a clearing surrounded by trees, though the forest was really only dense behind the shack. It was on nobody's property and nobody had claimed it, so the two Jacks and their friends had fixed it up and turned it into their base of operations. There were some lawn chairs, one rickety old wooden chair, and a large beanbag for seating. In the center of the room was a battered table that someone had thrown away. And at the back wall was a chest, filled with various objects.

Jack took the beanbag chair while Dalton took one of the lawn chairs.

"So, what happened?" Jack Dalton leaned forward in his chair.

Jack sighed, and proceeded to tell him the same story he had told the Sheriff.

When he was finished, Jack Dalton's eyes were wide as plates. "Do you know what this means!"

"What?" Jack asked.

"If they find out you're still alive, they'll be after you. And since I'm with you, they'll be after me too!"

"They hit me in the head," Jack said, sticking to his story. "They probably didn't mean to kill me. Anyway, they're long gone by now," Jack reassured him.

**"I wouldn't bet on that."**

_"What do you mean?"_

**"There's a good chance that they might still be around."**

_"That's peachy, just peachy." _

"Hey, Jack. I hate to interrupt your thoughts, but what's that smell?" Jack Dalton asked.

Jack took a deep breath, noticing for the first time the heavy scent that filled the air. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Smells like gasoline," he muttered. A crackling noise came to his ears, and the room became uncomfortably warm.

"Fire!" MacGyver and Jack yelled at once. Jack ran to the door. Placing a hand on it first, to see if it was hot, he turned the knob. Nothing happened.

"Fire!" Jack Dalton jumped to his feet. He watched as Jack threw himself against the door. "Why isn't the door opening!"

"It's locked!" Jack yelled. "Help me!"

Together they rushed at the door, crashing against it. It shuddered underneath the blow but didn't give. Just last week they had specially reinforced it, for the fun of it. Another charge gave the same results. _"So much for extra strength!"_ Jack accused, before doubling over in a fit of coughing.

The heat was increasing and Jack could see fire licking at the timbers above. They were both choking heavily on the smoke now. They would have to open the door and get out or be burned to death. "What are we going to do?" Dalton's eyes, watering heavily with the smoke, held fear.

"I don't know!" Jack looked around him. Why hadn't they made a secret entrance like everyone else? Why couldn't they have put in windows?

**"Do you have anything to pick the lock with?"**

_"No! I wasn't planning on getting trapped in a building. The door's lock was supposed to be broken. We don't even have a key!"_

**"Then I'm going to have to do something you're not going to like."**

_"You're what!"_ Jack didn't have time to say anything more. He felt himself being pushed back. He was losing control of his own body! Jack panicked, struggling against the sensation.

MacGyver was shocked at how hard it was to remain in control when Jack began fighting. They didn't have time for a war of wills. MacGyver released his hold, **"Man, you're strong!"**

Jack felt instant relief at being able to move by himself again. He twitched his fingers and took a step forward just to make sure he could._ "Don't ever do that again!"_

**"Look. We don't have that much time. I'm not going to be able to guide you step by step! I'm going to have to take control. You can hate me for it later, just don't fight it." **

The fire was eating at the walls now. MacGyver was right. Jack again felt himself lose control of his body. This time he refrained from panicking, allowing it to happen. He could still see and hear the fire, and he could still feel the heat, but he wasn't the one doing the moving. His body was, but he wasn't making the decisions.

Free from having to fight with Jack, MacGyver set to work. He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and handed it to Dalton. "Wrap this around your mouth," he ordered. "It'll help with the smoke." He then did the same for himself.

Quickly he patted his, or rather Jack's, pockets, hoping for a knife. Finding them empty, he let his eyes dart about the room, searching for something useful. Some wire was lying in the far corner of the room, from when Jack had unsuccessfully tried to make a model airplane. He could barely see it through the smoke and he wasn't sure if it would do, but it was their only chance. He ran toward it, his hand reaching out to snatch it up.

A piece of wood broke off and fell, still burning, toward the floor. It landed on the outstretched hand, biting into the flesh. MacGyver howled in pain, jerking his hand back, while Jack joined mentally with his own howl. _"What are you doing!" _he yelled.

**"Trying to get us out of here!"** MacGyver answered. With his other hand he grabbed a piece of wire and rushed back to the door with it. Straightening it out, he winced, having to use his burned hand. He thrust the home-made pick into the lock. "This should do the trick."

_"It better!" _The fire was roaring close about them now. The heat was becoming unbearable. Jack Dalton was slumped against the wall, not moving, and Jack feared for his life.

"There!" MacGyver cried triumphantly. He flung the door open. Bending down, he grabbed Jack Dalton. Half dragging, half carrying, he pulled him out of the burning building.

As soon as they were a safe distance from the fire, MacGyver released his hold. Jack gratefully took control over his own body. "_You didn't tell me you could do that! That definitely belongs in the bad section!"_

**"I was going to do it gradually."**

"_That was not gradual!"_

**"Sorry Jack, but it was necessary."** MacGyver continued on grimly. **"That fire wasn't accidental."**

_"Ya' think?"_

**"You saw them kill Frank. Until they're caught, they're going to keep trying to kill you. We're going to have to work together to catch them and bring them to justice."**

Jack could sense MacGyver's anger, pain, and determination. He could tell that the death of Frank still hurt MacGyver. _"You really liked Frank didn't you?"_

**"He was a good friend."**

_"So..."_ Jack was about to ask what MacGyver and Frank had been doing in this small town, and what these people were so willing to kill for, when he was interrupted by Jack Dalton stirring.

Jack looked anxiously down at his friend. "Jack, are you alright?"

Jack Dalton opened his eyes. "Hey, I'm alive! How'd we get out?"

"I picked the lock with a piece of wire," Jack replied.

"Since when did you learn to pick locks? We could have used that before."

Jack shook his head, ignoring the comment. "Look, we're going to have to get to a phone and call the fire department before this whole area burns. Can you walk?"

"Sure, Jack." Dalton stood up. "Whatever you say, amigo." He then noticed Jack's burned hand. "You're going to have to see a doctor about that."

Jack looked down at his hand. He had forgotten about it in the excitement, but now that he was reminded about it, it started to hurt again, badly. "Ouch," he stated.

**"I can fix that."** Instantly Jack felt a soothing sensation sweep over his hand. The pain dimmed.

_"Uh, thanks."_ Jack said hesitantly. He then turned to go. "Come on, Jack." As he turned, something whistled past his head, and a second later he heard the shot. "Run!" he ordered. Pushing Jack Dalton in front of him, he sprinted off into the nearby woods, as more bullets zipped through the air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This chapters a bit short, but hopefully the next one will be a bit longer. Thanks again PatriciaS, Cort85, and Nedy Rahn for your reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

* * *

Ryan grabbed his partner's arm, halting him in his tracks. "Stop," he hissed. "We'll never find them now. They know the land better than us."

"And whose fault is that!" Jacobs spat. The large man shrugged Ryan's hand off his arm. "It was your clever plan to make the fire, and see what happened? They escaped!"

Ryan's eyes sparked fire, and his finger twitched on the trigger of his gun. He spoke, his voice low and deadly, "You were the one who started firing at them as soon as they appeared. If you had taken the time to aim, or even better than that, left them alone, they would have thought the fire was an accident. They would have gone on unsuspecting. We could have then gotten the boy while he was alone. Thanks to you, they now know we're after them."

Jacobs clenched his fist, preparing to strike the smaller man. He took a step forward. Ryan made a small movement with his finger closing even further around the trigger. A smile played about his lips, daring Jacobs to move. The larger criminal backed down. "What do we do now?"

"We go back to his house, and wait for him," Ryan answered, "and this time, I'll do the shooting."

"Last time you did it the boy survived," Jacobs pointed out.

"He must have faked it." Ryan's eyes traveled slowly around him. "He must be more than we thought he was. A partner, maybe."

"He's awful young to be a partner." Jacobs didn't seem convinced.

"Looks can be deceiving." Ryan tilted his head. "You know the way back. You lead."

* * *

Jack Dalton doubled over, his hands on his knees. "We're going to have to stop," he gasped.

Jack halted also. He looked around, his senses on high alert, but he heard nor saw nothing dangerous. "Who are these guys?" he muttered.

"How am I supposed to know?" Dalton looked around him nervously.

Jack rolled his eyes, _"I was talking to you," _he thought. Out loud he said, "We'll rest for a bit." Jack Dalton nodded and sat gratefully down on the ground.

"**I figured you were. To tell you the truth, I haven't a clue."**

"_You don't know?"_

"**No, but I can guess who hired them."**

"_Who?"_

" **Wilson Davis.**** He's a politician, running for Governor. You've probably heard of him."**

"_Nah. I don't pay attention to that stuff." _

"**We were hired to investigate some of his activities. We had hardly started when accidents began happening. Then those guys started following us. We were on a lonely road. Your town was the nearest thing. I thought they wouldn't try anything in a group of people." **MacGyver's voice trailed off.

"_Did you get any evidence on him?" _Jack asked, attempting to keep MacGyver's mind off Frank's death.

"**Enough to lock him away, but the evidence is in our hotel room."**

"_So we get to your hotel room without getting shot, grab the evidence, then take it to the proper authorities. Right?"_

"**Right. Not getting shot will be the tricky part."**

"_Where's your hotel room?" _

"**About an hour and a half's drive from here."**

"_Oh… Well, we better be getting back. It's going to take some buttering up for my mom to allow me to take the car that far." _The memory of him accidentally backing the car up into a fire hydrant came to his mind.

MacGyver chuckled slightly, despite the seriousness of the situation. **"A lot of buttering up after that."**

Jack bent down and poked Jack Dalton, who was still sitting on the forest floor. "Come on. We best be getting back."

Dalton stood up. His eyes darted from one of Jack's hands to the other, "Hey, your hand! It isn't burned!"

Jack looked down at his hand. The skin was smooth and there was no trace of it having been burned. _"How am I'm going to explain that?"_

"**Uh…"**

"When did it start doing that?" Dalton asked. His eyes held an excited gleam that Jack knew far too well.

"Since this morning," Jack answered warily.

"If this happens every time... just think of it!"

"Think of what?" Jack had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

"People would pay big money to see something like that!"

"Jack! I am not becoming a circus sideshow." He reached out and slapped Dalton on the arm.

Dalton grinned at him. "It was worth a shot." He shrugged. "Seriously, how do you do that?"

Jack hesitated, unsure of whether he should tell his friend what had happened to him or not. "Jack," he started to tell him, but how in the world could he? What would he say? An alien crawled up in my head this morning? "Come on. We need to get home. And be quiet. They might be still out looking for us."

Thankfully, Dalton let the subject drop. They made their way through the woods, being careful not to make a sound. When they reached their clubhouse, they found a fire truck already there and a large group of people standing about. The fire was nearly out now, but the shack was burned down to the ground.

"Jack!" A woman's voice cried, and he turned to see his mother rushing towards him. She enveloped him in a large hug. "Where have you been!" She demanded. "I went up to your room to find you gone, and then I hear that your meeting place was on fire. I've been worried sick about you."

"I'm fine, mom." Jack guessed he must have broken the record for saying I'm fine in a single day. How many times had he said it anyway?

"**Only six." **

"_Thanks," _Jack hadn't really wanted an answer. "Me and Jack just went for a walk in the woods," he continued his conversation with his mother. He glared at Jack, silently telling him to keep his mouth shut. He didn't want his mother to worry.

Unfortunately Jack didn't keep his mouth shut, "Me and Jack have just been walking the entire time. I wished we had known about this fire sooner. We might have been able to save something."

Ellen looked over at her son's friend. She knew Jack Dalton well, mainly because he spent more time at her house than at his own. She had quickly learned that when his left eye twitched, he was lying, and it was twitching now. "Jack," she looked her son straight in the face, "what happened?" Her voice was stern.

Jack feigned confusion, "What do you mean?"

Ellen sighed, "Jack what's going on. Please tell me."

Jack sent another glare at Dalton, who promptly positioned himself so Ellen was between them. Jack closed his eyes, unsure of what he should say.

"**Tell her the truth. She deserves to know."**

"_About you too?"_

"**Maybe not that."**

Jack opened his eyes and looked at his mother. "Let's go to the house. I'll tell you along the way."

* * *

Jacobs pointed at Jack from the bushes he and Ryan were hiding in. "There he is."

"Not now," Ryan looked at the scene in disgust. The small shack was now completely devoured by the flames. Everyone was standing about staring at it as if they had nothing better to do. "There's too many people."

"That didn't stop you before," Jacobs grunted. He wanted to get this done and over with.

"That was different," Ryan gave his partner a look that clearly said be quiet. He was angry at himself for what he had done this morning. He had given into his weakness. The excitement of the hunt had consumed him. He had forgotten everything else, including caution. "We'll get them at the boy's house."

Jacobs snorted, "I don't see why we have to kill him anyway. He doesn't know anything. Why can't we just get out of here?"

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Fool! Jones could have passed him information. He could have enough on us and Mr. Davis to send us to jail for the rest of our lives. Or worse. We'll have to get him before he goes to the police."

"Well, what about the woman and the other boy?" Jacobs asked sullenly. He didn't like being ordered about.

"We'll kill them too." Ryan smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: Here's the fourth chapter. Thanks to MacBedh, Cort 85, WaxWings, and Nedy Rahn for their reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will.**

* * *

They entered the house in silence. Ellen was worried. Who wouldn't be? Some men were trying to kill her son! "Jack, I'm calling the Sheriff."

Jack nodded. "Good idea." It would make her feel better, and to tell the truth, it would ease his mind a bit, too. Though, what Sheriff Roberts would actually do with real murderers, he wasn't sure. The city had never had trouble like this before. Jack followed his mother into the kitchen, the only room with a phone in it. Dalton followed close behind him. He hadn't left Jack's side since the fire.

Ellen picked up the phone. "After this, we'd best call your parents, Jack. They're bound to be worried about you."

Dalton just shrugged, "Yes Ma'am."

Jack absently looked at the clock. 6:34. Was it really that late? Boy, the day had flown. What was that old saying? Time flies when you're having fun? Well, time flies when you're being chased by killers, too.

"Hello? Hello?" Ellen frowned. "Operator?" She shook her head. "The phone's dead."

**"The line must have been cut."**

"The line must have been cut," Jack repeated, for Dalton's and his mother's benefit.

"Isn't that what crooks do before breaking into a house?" Dalton looked around him nervously.

Ellen slammed the phone down. A determined look came over her face. "Boys, go upstairs, and stay away from any windows," she ordered. "I'll be up in a second. They'll most likely come in through the ground floor. I want you to keep ann eye on your bedroom window, Jack, just in case they try to climb up that tree. Now, go on upstairs."

Jack's eyes widened. She knew about his tree!

"**That's not really important now." **MacGyver nudged Jack.

Jack barely stopped his hand from shooting up to his head. _"Don't do that!" _But the nudge had the desired effect. Jack headed up the stairs, Dalton still following him.

Jack Dalton immediately went to Jack's window and stuck his head out. "I don't see anybody."

"Jack!" Jack grabbed his friend and jerked him back, "What are you doing!"

"I was just looking out," Dalton protested. "I thought maybe you could sneak down the tree and get help."

Jack paused for a moment. He could, but that would involve leaving his mother and Jack alone in the house to be attacked. He wouldn't do that. "No. I'm staying. I can't leave you here with these guys." Jack walked over to the dresser that stood beside his bed. He opened the top drawer. Pushing away a few socks and other items, he found what he was looking for. Carefully he picked the item up. It was a small handgun that had belonged to his father.

The instant his fingers grasped the gun a feeling of hatred and fear charged against him. A memory, not his own, flooded into his mind: _His friend turned, "Look at that!" he exclaimed. He raised the gun and aimed it at a hawk. _

_"No!" he yelled. Instinctively, he grabbed his friend's arm to prevent him from shooting the bird. The gun flew through the air. It landed and the sound of a shot filled the air. Jesse crumpled to the ground. _

"**No!" **MacGyver yelled.

Jack shook his head, trying to clear it from MacGyver's memory, from the feeling of actually being there. _"Just because you had an accident sometime isn't going to keep me from protecting my family!"_

"**There are better ways!"**

"You can't control my life!" Jack clutched the gun tighter.

"**There are better ways of doing things without killing people!" **

Jack could feel MacGyver's anger. He saw his visions of joining the Air Force slipping away. If MacGyver hated guns and MacGyver could take control of his body at anytime… Fear crept back into Jack. Fear of the thing that had invaded his head.

MacGyver halted, as soon as he sensed Jack's fear. He didn't want Jack to be terrified of him, or to hate him. **"Sorry about that," **he said gently, reaching out to touch him. **"But if you use that gun, you will be starting a gun fight. You don't want Jack and your mom dragged into that, do you?"**

"No," Jack admitted. His fingers loosened around the gun.

"**I can help. I can set a trap for them. But I'll need your cooperation."**

"You mean take control again?"

"**Yes, but it will be only for a short while. To help your family."**

"Jack? Do you see somebody I don't?" Jack turned around. Dalton was looking at him like he was a madman.

Jack froze. _"I have been talking out loud, haven't I?"_

"**Yes."**

"_Why didn't you tell me?" _

"**I was a bit busy."**

"Jack, I'm not crazy so don't look at me like that."

Dalton relaxed only slightly. "Then who were you talking to?" His face showed concern.

Just then, Jack's mother came into the room. "Jack, I thought I told you to close and lock the window?"

Jack hurried to close the open window, glad for the distraction. "What were you doing down there?" he asked her.

"I was closing and locking the doors and windows. It'll take them a little bit longer that way."

Jack was getting ready to ask why she didn't let them help her, but MacGyver interrupted. **"If I'm going to do anything I'm going to have to do it soon."**

"_I don't remember saying yes to that."_

"**I just want to help."**

Jack groaned. _"Fine." _He relaxed and felt MacGyver take control.

MacGyver looked around the room. A plan began forming in his head. The stairs would be a perfect place to set it. All he needed was some supplies. Spotting a pile of rope in one corner, he snatched it up.

"Jack what are you doing?" Ellen asked.

MacGyver paused for a moment to smile at her. "I'm making a trap," he explained. "Hopefully, it will catch them before they get up here."

The sound of glass shattering from downstairs made them all pause. "I'll need some help," MacGyver said, as he hurried to his task.

* * *

Ryan had let Jacobs break the window and enter the house first. Jacobs had declared that since they were going to do this, he was going to do some of the shooting. Ryan had agreed, even allowing Jacobs to enter the house first. Jacobs had thought he had finally won an argument against his partner, and Ryan let him think that. After Jacobs had entered the house, Ryan stayed behind for a moment. After all, if the kid did have a gun, it would be better for their cause if Jacobs got hit instead of him.

Not hearing any shots he cautiously climbed in the window.

* * *

They had searched the entire bottom floor and found no one. The house had no basement so there was only one place they could be. Upstairs. Again, Ryan let Jacobs go first. Ryan hated stairs, at least when he was on the bottom of them. They made one weak, and gave the one at the top the advantage. He especially hated stairs that twisted and turned so that he couldn't see the top. These were like that. It wasn't a spiral staircase but it had enough turns in it to be dangerous, plus the railings were high and solid, not allowing anyone to see through them or over them.

Jacobs charged foolishly up the stairs, but Ryan held back. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

* * *

"_I hope this works."_

"**It should."**

"How did you come up with this?" Dalton whispered. MacGyver had insisted it would be safer for both him and Ellen to go in one of the back rooms, but they had both refused. Seeing as there wasn't enough time for Jack to come forward and make Jack go, or convince his mother that it would be better if she stayed hidden, they had been allowed to stay.

MacGyver just shrugged. "It made sense. Shh." He warned. "They're coming toward the stairs."

Loud footsteps could be heard thudding up the stairs. At the right moment MacGyver pulled at the rope in his hand.

Jacobs turned the stairs and was hit squarely by Jack's mattress. With a muffled cry, he was thrown against the wall, his head crashing against it.

"_One down!" _Jack cried in delight. They waited, second rope in hand for the other one to turn around the corner, but he didn't.

As soon as Ryan heard his companion's cry, he retreated. The fool had obviously run into a trap and Ryan would have no part in it. It seemed this boy was smarter than he looked. Well, Ryan could play smart too. Quietly. he exited the house and snuck into the woods. He didn't view this as a failure. He viewed it as a victory. Now that the bumbling Jacobs was out of the way, he would be able to do his job efficiently. Until now Ryan had always worked alone. He preferred it. He could prevent his own mistakes, but not those of someone else. Of course now he had an extra job to do. Jacobs couldn't be allowed to tell anything, but that would be easy.

* * *

MacGyver cautiously moved down the steps. He gestured for Jack Dalton to stay put but he followed anyway. He carefully lifted the mattress to reveal the unconscious man. The gun that Jacobs had dropped when he was hit was lying beside him. MacGyver ignored it. Drawing a cord that originally belonged to a set of blinds, out of his pocket, he proceeded to tie the murderer up.

"_Where's the other one?"_

"**He must have gotten away."**

"_Will he still come after us?"_

"**I don't know, but to be on the safe side we better assume that he will."**

"_Right." _That made sense. _"Hey, MacGyver?_

"**You can call me Mac."**

"_Okay then, __Mac__. It's my turn now. You've had long enough."_

**"Alright****," **MacGyver let go, giving the control back to Jack.

Jack gave a sigh of relief. The first thing he did was pick up the gun and unload it. A loaded gun with a bad guy in the house wasn't a good combination. He stood up and then stiffened. He could feel someone's eyes on him. He spun around but it was only Jack. Dalton quickly broke his stare and flashed Jack a big grin, "Great job! What's next?"

"Now we get the police," Jack answered.

A knock sounded on the door, and all three of them jumped. "I'll get it. You boys stay up here," Ellen commanded. Stepping over Jacobs' body, she walked down the stairs. Soon the sound of the door being unlocked and opened could be heard, and then the sound of the Sheriff's voice. "Sorry to bother you this late Ma'am, but somebody driving by reported seeing two men sneaking around the house. Seeing what's been going on lately, I thought I'd investigate it personally."

"We have one of them right here!" Jack called down the stairs. He glanced down at Jacobs, "and he's starting to wake up." He added.

The Sheriff hurried up the steps, Ellen following at a slower pace. Jack nudged Jacobs with his foot. The man moaned and opened his eyes. He tried to reach up and feel his head but found his hands tied tightly behind his back.

"This was one of the men who killed Frank," Jack said to the Sheriff.

"Are you sure?" Roberts asked.

"Positive," Jack stated grimly.

Jacobs laughed. All eyes turned to the one still lying on the floor. "You're not in the best position to be laughing." The Sheriff drew forth a pair of cuffs.

Jacobs ignored the Sheriff, instead focusing on Jack. He sneered up at him, "You didn't catch Ryan did you? He got away, and he'll get you yet, and set me free too."

Jack's face hardened as he stared down at the man, "I wouldn't bet on that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: Here's the 5th chapter. I apoligize for taking so long. Only one more chapter after this. I already have it written up so I shall be posting it soon. Thanks to Nedy Rahn and Cort 85 for their reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own and am not making money off this, unless you count pleasure as money.**

* * *

Jack breathed out deeply. The Sheriff had finally left, and taken Jacobs with him. Jacobs. That was the only other bit of information they had managed to get out of the man. He and Jack had told the Sheriff about the fire incident and he had decided to send a man to keep watch over the house, at least for tonight. Jack looked around him. The house was quiet now. His mother had gone to bed and Dalton, who had decided to spend the night, was in the kitchen fixing himself a snack. Jack walked into the kitchen.

His friend turned to look at him and for a second something, not quite fear, more like caution, flickered in his eyes.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Jack asked. He took a step forward.

Dalton took a step back. His face had grown serious, an emotion that was not often seen on his face. "Who are you and where's my friend?" He demanded.

"_O for crying out loud!" _Jack thought. Out loud he asked, "What do you mean?" He tried to play innocent.

"First you pick that lock, then your hand heals, then you start talking to yourself. And since when did you learn how to make traps like that? And the whole time you were making the trap you weren't acting like yourself."

Jack sighed. There was no way he was going to get away with this. "You're right. That wasn't me. It was MacGyver."

"Are you saying you're schizo?"

"No. I… I got shot today," Jack blurted.

"You got what?" Dalton cried, surprised at the sudden change of conversation and what Jack had just said.

"I was shot. I didn't get knocked in the head this morning. They shot me. I thought I was going to die. I fainted and woke up perfectly fine." Jack paused to see how his friend took this.

"So you suddenly can't stay hurt; that doesn't mean you have to start acting strange. And who's MacGyver?"

Jack closed his eyes and made a face. There was no way Dalton was going to believe him. "He's an alien."

Dalton just stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and wonder on his face.

"He, uh, shares my body. His old host was the man that was murdered today."

Dalton still didn't reply. Jack was beginning to think he should have made something up.

"**I could talk to him."**

Jack agreed, and for once, actually felt relieved when MacGyver took control.

Jack Dalton watched as his friend's head bowed. A light flashed from his eyes. Jack jumped back fearfully crying out. "Jack?" he questioned.

"_What was that?" _Jack asked.

"**I thought it might drive the point in more."**

MacGyver shook his head. "The name's MacGyver. What Jack was telling you was true."

If possible Dalton's eyes grew even wider and he took another step back. "You're an alien?" It looked like Jack. It sounded like Jack, and yet its eyes flashed and it claimed it wasn't Jack.

"Yeah, though I've lived on earth longer than most anybody living," MacGyver answered.

Jack Dalton tilted his head sideways. "So you're not the destroy-the-world-type alien?"

MacGyver smiled, "Not really."

"Is there any more of you?"

"Yes, but they don't live on earth."

"Then what are you doing here?"

MacGyver shrugged, "Earth's a pretty planet."

The caution by this time had disappeared from Jack's eyes and was replaced by the usual spark of mischief. "So, any other cool things you can do, MacGyver?"

MacGyver shook his head and grinned, "Nah, that's about it. By the way, my friends call me Mac."

"Hey, Mac Jack. They rhyme!"

Jack groaned. _"You wouldn't be that happy if it was you he was burrowed into."_ MacGyver could tell his annoyance, however, was more playful than anything else.

"**He's taking this well."**

"_Jack takes most things better than most people."_

If Jack had been in control of his body he would have begun fidgeting. As he wasn't, he called out MacGyver's name. MacGyver instantly realized what Jack wanted and released his hold.

Dalton started slightly as another change took place, more subtle then the first. "Jack?" he asked again.

"Yep its me. Boy that feels better."

"What's it like?"

"Weird." Jack closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired.

Jack Dalton noticed his friend's fatigue. "Hey, you just go on and get some sleep. You've had a more exciting day than I have."

Jack nodded, then gave Dalton a hard stare, "Do me a big favor. Don't tell anyone about this."

"Sure thing, Jack. What are friends for?"

* * *

Jack crawled into bed, tired and exhausted. Still he didn't want to go to sleep. He wanted to be awake, so that he would hear the slightest noise that would signify Ryan's return. He knew the Sheriff had sent a man to keep watch, but Jack wasn't all that confident Ryan couldn't slip by him. He didn't want to leave himself, Jack, or his mother vulnerable.

"**Go ahead and sleep. I'll keep watch. I don't really need that much sleep anyway."**

Jack felt a soothing touch, urging him to sleep. Earlier that day he would have fought against it, not trusting enough to put his life or his mother's in somebody else's hands, but now he just closed his eyes and gave in to the need to sleep.

Jack had dreams that night. They were happy, at first. Him as a child playing with friends, friends he had never seen before, and yet knew. The dream changed and he was holding a wriggling puppy in his arms, looking up at a dark-haired woman. "Mom, can I keep him please?" he begged.

She smiled down at him, "Do you promise to take care of it?"

"Yes."

"Then you may have it."

"Thanks, Mom!" He hugged her as well as he could while holding the puppy.

Then the dream darkened. He was sobbing, holding the lifeless form of the dog by the side of a road. Again the scene changed. He was running for his life. They were closing in on him. He darted into a small store and began grabbing things off the shelf in a desperate attempt to save himself. A shot sounded.

Jack sat up in bed breathing hard. The dreams still clung to him and he knew without asking that they were MacGyver's memories of Frank. _"Mac, are you okay?"_

"**Fine, its just…" **MacGyver sighed. **"He was too young. That shouldn't have happened."**

Jack again could feel MacGyver's sorrow. He tried to be comforting, to bring up a happy memory of his own, but his mind turned to the stormy night his father and grandmother had died. He had never really gotten over it. He had allowed himself to grieve once. His grandfather Harry had encouraged it, saying it would help. It had helped. It had given him just enough strength to keep his sorrow bottled in, and to be strong for his mother. But now the memory was resurfacing, mingled with the memories of Frank. Together, MacGyver and Jack grieved.

* * *

Jack opened his eyes, _"MacGyver?" _he called out tentatively.

"**Yes?"**

"_Shoot! Your real." _He had thought it might have been just a dream.

"**Sorry." **Jack had the feeling MacGyver was smiling.

"_No you're not," _he grumbled, before getting out of bed. Quickly he threw on some clothes, then clattered down the stairs.

When Jack walked into the kitchen, his mother was already there fixing breakfast, and much to his surprise, Jack Dalton was sitting at the kitchen table. "You're up early," Jack pointed out, sitting down across from him. Dalton rarely got up early, and never before Jack.

Dalton just shrugged, "Couldn't sleep."

"Ah," Jack looked over at his mother, then back to Dalton. Dalton put a finger to his lips with one hand and crossed his heart with the other, signifying that he hadn't told. Jack nodded.

Breakfast was eaten in relative silence. Jack carried his plate to the sink. "Is there a man still watching the house?" he asked.

"Yes, I believe so," Ellen answered.

"Then I'm going to drop by the Sheriff's office." Since Ryan was after him, it should be safe to leave his mother in the house.

"**We need to get the evidence."**

"_Yeah that part's going to be tricky."_

Then suddenly a brilliant idea came to him. "Can I take the car?"

"Why do you want to?" His mom asked. Usually Jack preferred to walk.

"I just thought it'd be safer." Jack inwardly cringed. He hated to play off his mother's worry, but if he was going to get the evidence he would need the car.

"Of course," Ellen agreed immediately. "You know where the keys are." She paused before giving him a warning glance, "And don't wreck."

"Yes Ma'am." He gave her a mock salute.

Jack Dalton stood up. "I'll go with you."

"Okay," Jack nodded. He was sure his friend was bursting with curiosity, and that there was no way he would be able to leave him behind.

He was right. As soon as they got in the car Jack Dalton started, "Is it still there?"

"He, not it," Jack corrected. "And yes, the worm is still there."

As soon as he spoke the word worm he felt a slight pain at the back of his neck, as if someone had pinched him. **"Tok'ra. I am not a worm."**

"Tok'ra, right," Jack muttered.

"What?" Dalton asked.

"His race is called Tok'ra," Jack smirked. "Apparently, he doesn't like being called a worm."

Jack reached to turn the key and start the car.

"**Do you want me to drive?" **The image of him backing into the fire hydrant popped up.

"_No," _Jack snorted.

"So when do I get to speak to him again?" Dalton asked.

Jack rolled his eyes. "You don't like talking to me anymore?"

Dalton grinned, "Yep, you're boring."

Jack reached over to smack him.

* * *

When they reached the police station they found Sheriff Roberts standing grimly by the door.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked, sensing something was amiss.

"Did that Jacobs fellow escape?" Dalton jumped to the conclusion.

Roberts slowly shook his head, "No, he didn't escape. He was killed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note: Here's the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who has bothered to read all the way through this, and special thanks to Cort 85 who has reviewed every chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

* * *

"Killed?" Jack asked, "As in dead?"

"Yes," the sheriff answered. "I have a feeling that fellow Ryan had something to do with it."

"Why would he do that?" Dalton asked. "He was his partner."

The sheriff just shook his head. But Jack knew, "He didn't want him to tell anything."

"Some partner," Dalton muttered.

Jack turned around and jumped into the car. Something needed to be done before someone innocent got hurt. "Where are you going?" Dalton demanded.

"Stay here with Mom. I'll be back in a few hours," Jack ordered. Dalton made a move to get in the car, but Jack drove off before he got the chance.

"**I know the way. It would probably be easier if I drove."**

Jack snorted. _"I am not going to be blamed for wrecking when I didn't do it."_

"**I **_**can**_** drive."**

"_Accidents happen." _Jack paused for a moment. "_Didn't you say you drove here? Where's your car?" _

"**At the edge of town. I jumped out to try to throw them off." **

"_How about we use it. Then you can drive. You do have the keys don't you?"_

" **No, but that shouldn't be a problem."**

"_You can hotwire a car?"_

"**Yes," **MacGyver admitted slowly.

"_Sweet!" _Jack declared.

* * *

With a few directions from MacGyver, they soon reached the spot where the car was parked.

"_This is your car?" _Jack asked incredulously. He was somehow expecting something different from MacGyver. MacGyver took control. Jack was beginning to get used to the feeling.

MacGyver surveyed the purple van and grimaced slightly. **"It's a rental." **Opening the car door he got out and strode toward the other vehicle. **"There wasn't time to lock it."**

He walked around the front of the van and came face to face with Ryan. Ryan didn't seem too surprised. "So there is something valuable hidden in the van." Ryan smiled. MacGyver didn't see it though. His eyes were focused on the gun in Ryan's hand. "I've been searching for anything Jones might have left, but I haven't found anything. Perhaps you'd show me?"

MacGyver had automatically raised his hands upon seeing the gun. He now lowered them just an inch. He had to do something. He couldn't let his new host be killed.

"_You better think of something!"_

MacGyver started inwardly in surprise. He thought he had kept those thoughts to himself. It seemed he had blended more with Jack than he thought.

"There isn't anything in there," MacGyver tried to bide for time.

"Is there?" Ryan cocked his head. "Then what are you doing here?"

MacGyver smiled. "I thought I'd just take the van for a drive."

"Don't be silly with me, boy," Ryan hissed. "What connection do you have with Jones."

"I used to live in him," MacGyver smirked, but Jack could tell the smile was fake. He could feel MacGyver's rage building up, overwhelming his mind. Jack let it, adding his own anger for this man who would so willing kill his family. "He was my best friend." MacGyver let their combined anger loose and jumped forward.

Ryan gasped. One second he was winning, pointing the gun at the boy with a smile on his face, the next second the gun was knocked out of his hands and he was being pressed against the van with inhuman force.

MacGyver pulled his fist back. He should kill the man but he couldn't. That would make him just like Ryan. Instead he prepared to knock the man out.

When the boy moved his fist back it gave Ryan just the chance he needed. Using his free arm he flicked his hand, revealing a knife. He stabbed forward at the same time kicking out.

MacGyver cried out as the knife sank into his stomach, and the force of the kick sent him flying backwards. In an instant Ryan was over top of him. MacGyver rolled, barely missing the second stab. He didn't even have time to get to his feet before Ryan was on him again. MacGyver kicked out in an attempt to trip him, but Ryan would not be surprised a second time. Nimbly he avoided the kick and drew close to MacGyver again, knife ready.

"Can't we talk about this?" MacGyver asked. Ryan's only answer was to bring the knife down. MacGyver's hand shot out and grabbed his would-be killer's wrist. With a jerk he sent the man flying over his head. He scrambled to his feet and firmly planted his foot on the fallen knife. He could feel Jack's body weakening and realized the only reason it hadn't collapsed was his firm hold on it. He wouldn't be able to fight much longer.

The instant Ryan hit the ground he was on his feet again. Quickly he pulled a knife from his belt.

"_How many knives does he have?" _Jack asked, _"Gah, this hurts."_

"**Sorry," **MacGyver apologized.

"_For crying out loud! Pick up the knife!" _Jack yelled.

MacGyver was about to take Jack's advice and pick up the knife when Ryan charged. MacGyver leapt sideways barely avoiding the now crazed man.

Thud! Quickly MacGyver turned around, wondering if Ryan had produced some new way to attack him. What he saw was Ryan lying on the ground where he had obviously tripped and fallen. MacGyver waited a second, expecting him to jump back to his feet and renew the attack. When he didn't MacGyver moved forward. Cautiously he approached, wondering if this was some trick, but then he saw the blood. He turned Ryan over with his foot. The murderer's own knife was embedded in him. MacGyver knelt down and felt for a pulse. There was none.

MacGyver slumped down beside his enemy as Jack's body finally gave out.

"_At least he's dead," _Jack thought. _"If I'm going to die, he should be dead too."_

"**You're not going to die. I can heal you remember?" **MacGyver released his hold, he needed to concentrate all his energies on healing Jack.

"_So I'm not too far gone?"_

"**No, you're not too far gone."**

Jack smiled. _"You know in the last couple of days I've come closer to dying more times then I have in my entire life. You sure were right when you said you attracted trouble."_

_

* * *

_

Years Later

Jack stood in front of a mirror eying himself. It was amazing how different he looked. The military uniform had been exchanged for a pair of jeans, tee shirt, and a leather jacket. Those looked alright and were a simple change. It was the hair that was shocking. It definitely couldn't be called military anymore. He had a mullet for crying out loud! Jack's face darkened as he turned to the reason for these changes. He was having to hide. He was running from the government! He was going AWOL. Jack sighed, and ran a hand through his now long hair. His hopes of a military career had been crushed. Much to his surprise MacGyver hadn't ruined his life. He had joined the Air Force as planned.

The first time he had gotten hurt, no one had been around, and MacGyver had healed him. The second time it was small enough MacGyver didn't have to heal him. The third time however was life or death, and he was surrounded by people. MacGyver had to heal him, and that attracted attention. Too much attention. Nothing was said about it and Jack had hoped everyone would forget, but then his Colonel had ordered him to come to his office. Jack could still remember the conversation.

"Jack O'Neill."

"Yes, sir." Jack saluted.

"Sit down, what I'm about to tell you isn't going to be easy." He gestured toward a chair, and Jack sat down. "Certain members of the government are very interested in you."

"Me?" Jack asked.

"Yes you," he sighed. "Your ability to heal has caught their attention."

"Heal, sir?" Jack tried to act casual, but his face paled.

"You know what I'm talking about. I don't know how you do it and I'm not interested, but they are, along with several scientists." He took a deep breath. "To put it bluntly, they want to experiment on you."

"They can't do that!" Jack cried. MacGyver's restraining touch was the only thing keeping him from leaping up and panicking.

"It would be easy. A simple accident, you're reported dead and are never seen again. They can and they will, if they can catch you. This is why I'm warning you now. You can still run."

"Are you suggesting…" Jack's voice trailed off.

"Yes," he answered. "It's your only choice."

Jack nodded and stood up. "Sir, may I ask why you're telling me this?"

"I serve my country, not the government," was the answer.

So here he was looking at himself in the mirror. Soon Jack O'Neill would be no more, and in his place would be MacGyver. A few years ago Jack would have fought against the idea of MacGyver being in control most of the time, but now he knew Mac better and the idea wasn't so repulsive. He looked at his hair again. It was still amazing that MacGyver could make it grow so quickly.

"**Do you like it?" **MacGyver asked.

"_It makes me look like a hippy!"_

"**Its not that bad."**

"_Hmph. That's your opinion."_

"**Well are you ready?"**

"_We've been switching for years."_

"**You know what I mean."**

"_Oh. Well in that case, I'm ready."_

MacGyver took control. Officially Jack was dead, killed in an explosion. His life was ended. MacGyver's life was just beginning.

The End

* * *

**Well that's the end of this story. I am planning on going through both the MacGyver years and the Stargate years, telling how this changes things. The first chapter of a new story will be up soon. Thanks again for reading. **


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